“What’s the island called?” Pete asked.
“We’re still trying to come up with a killer slogan, but right now we’re referring to it as Hookup Island.”
“Why not just call it Fuck Me Island?” Mallory said. “That’s what’s going to be happening there, and it’s the only possible reason anyone would pay that much. To fuck, and fuck a lot.”
“Why not Marry Me Island?” Emma said. “That’s what all the attendees are hoping to find—love.”
“You have such a sweet heart, Emma,” Charlotte said. “It’s like you’re a Disney princess with really nice tits, firm abs, and a killer ass. It’s like if Ariel became human and we got to see her walk around naked.”
“Come on, I can’t be that far off! If I spent that kind of money to go to an island like that,” Emma sputtered, “it would be to find my perfect match!”
“Yeah, right,” Mallory snorted. “The chances of me finding Mr. Right on that Tahitian island are the same as the bachelorette finding an actual, non-asshole husband on network television. If I were in charge of those roses, I’d toss them on the ground and crush them beneath the heel of my Jimmy Choo, then I’d invite all the guys to do me at once, no strings attached. All the guys there just want to fuck and be on TV.”
“I can totally envision that.” Charlotte giggled. “It would make for hella good TV. But, hey, it happened to one of the bachelorettes, so it can happen for you, too, right?” Charlotte turned to Antonio. “I call dibs on the next test crowd, Tonio. After you dump me, it’s the least you can do to mend my broken heart.” She smiled sweetly and held up her drink. “Cheers to amicable breakups and hot island hookups, now fill me up.”
Antonio picked up the champagne and refilled her glass. “No one is breaking up with anyone tonight. So on that note, let’s head in and eat. What do you guys say?” He stood. “They have a table waiting for us.”
They followed him in.
Emma was directly behind Antonio. At the table he turned, smiled at her, and pulled out the chair next to him. “Won’t you have a seat?”
She sat.
18
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Pete was seated across the table from Emma. He watched her laugh and have a good time next to Antonio the entire meal. If it hadn’t been for Mallory distracting him, he would’ve overturned the table and hauled her out of there after the first five minutes.
Mallory leaned in, whispering, “Your frowny face is scaring the staff. Snap out of it. We’re almost done. Then it’s time for the real fun to begin.”
“The only fun Emma and I are having is back in our room,” Pete commented. “I’m taking her home right after dinner.”
Mallory laughed. “Yeah, right. If Antonio has anything to say about it, we’ll all be fucking on his villa deck before the night is over, his cock firmly embedded in your wife.”
“Over my dead body,” Pete replied gruffly.
“This is all coming along so nicely,” Mallory said. “You are definitely a predictable man.” She set her hand on his chest and drew a nail downward. “It’s too bad you’re taken, because we could’ve totally had some fun. You’re a guy’s guy, and I like that. The caveman type. But totally loyal. I need to clone you.” A curtain of hair fell over one eye as she leaned forward, blocking Pete’s view of the other side of the table. Then, unexpectedly, she nibbled his earlobe. When he jerked back, she held him steady by the shoulders, saying, “Hold tight, cowboy. This is all part of the plan.”
“What fucking plan?” Pete hissed. He was having trouble keeping his voice below a yell.
He was sick of it all.
“To make Emma jealous, of course,” Mallory replied sweetly. She patted his chest. “Dude, you need to wake up and smell the Cuban. You’re going to need to make your wife want you more than she wants the shiny new treat who’s showering her with attention and affection and expensive-as-hell champagne. And she’s going to want you all the more when she thinks I want you. Capisce?”
“No, it’s not capisce at all—”
“Are you two all right?” Emma asked from the other side of the table.
Pete’s head snapped up.
He hadn’t realized that he’d basically been in a huddle with Mallory. “We’re fine—I’m fine. Just ready to head out.”
“Oh, where are you two going?” Emma’s face was inscrutable.
“No, we’re going.” He gestured between the two of them, trying not to sound too frustrated. “You and I. Back to the villa.”
Emma’s eyebrows rose as she glanced between him and Mallory. “Antonio and Charlotte are having a bonfire in front of their villa. They’ve invited some other couples to join them. It’s going to be fun, and I’d like to go.”
Pete was about to say there was no way in hell that was happening, but Mallory reached under the table and pinched his leg. “Fine,” he ground out. “We can do it if you want.”
Antonio heard every word and grinned ear to ear like he’d just won a contest. Pete wanted to punch the smile off his face. His fists curled in his lap.
“I think everyone is finished.” Antonio set his napkin on the table. “Shall we go?”
Once again, they all stood and followed him out. He was like the Pied Piper of Paradise. Pete could see no other choice but to follow. But it made him sick to be one of this guy’s ducklings.
How had this happened so fast? They’d only been there a day.
Once outside they took the wood path. After a few hundred feet, Pete couldn’t take it anymore. He had to get away for a few minutes, or he was going to go bonkers. He decided to take the beach the rest of the way back to clear his head. “Does anyone know if this path is the one that heads to the beach?” he called, stopping at an intersection everyone else had already passed.
Charlotte turned. “Yep, that one goes out to the beach in front of area B.”
“Great,” Pete said. “I’m going to go this way. I’ll meet you guys back at the villa.”
Emma turned. She was in front, walking with Antonio. “Okay,” she said, her face hard to read in the darkness. “We’ll see you back at the villas.”
Villas? Plural.
Mallory made a move to go with him, but he shook his head, tamping down the snarl that was rising in his throat. She took his meaning, or maybe his face, to heart and kept walking with the others.
“We’ll see you later, surfer dude,” she called over her shoulder. “And I, for one, can’t wait.” Then she blew him a loud, smacking kiss.
Pete turned, angry at how this night had turned out. He fisted his hands as he walked. His muscles were beginning to ache because of all the clenching and unclenching. His brain was moving in eighty different directions. This was brand new territory for him. Emma had always been doting—first as a doting girlfriend, and then as a doting wife. She’d never given him any reason to doubt her love for him. Now? He had no idea what was going on. It was making his chest ache all the damn time, a dull thudding pounding continuously against his ribs.
The trouble was, he had no idea what it meant.
He’d never experienced any sort of emotion like this before. It sounded lame, but he’d never loved anyone like Emma. And she’d never given him any reason to feel like this.
After a few twists and turns, Pete made it out to the beach. He’d exited onto the sand at the very far end of the resort. It was dark, but the moon was out. He was wearing light linen pants that Emma had bought him especially for the trip. He stopped to roll up his pant legs before he hit the water. For a moment, he wished like hell this island had a good wave break. Surfing had been his life growing up in California. He’d attended USC, and when he hadn’t been playing baseball, he’d spent most of his time in the water. Mallory hadn’t been far from the truth when she called him a surfer. He looked like a surfer, and he certainly identified with the lifestyle. Choosing to move to Chicago, and then to Madison, had taken him far from what he loved to do, but being with
Emma made him happier.
As he walked up the beach toward their villa, he thought about his life with Emma. She’d been happy with him all these years, hadn’t she? They’d gotten married fairly young, but lots of people did. Originally, she hadn’t wanted to move to the suburbs, but once they’d found their neighborhood, she’d seemed content. Their house was something they were both proud of. They’d each put their blood, sweat, and tears into it. Their neighbors were a little eye-roll-inducing, but whose weren’t?
He ran a hand through his hair.
How had things gotten to this point?
That was the question he kept going back to. He and Emma had been happy. They’d been living the perfect life. Now all of a sudden she was unhappy, and he was miserable. The problem was, her unhappiness could drive her into the arms of another man—a man with millions of dollars and a tantalizing lifestyle Pete couldn’t compete with. Emma could leave him and the suburbs behind forever with a snap of her fingers.
“Damn,” he muttered. “How did things get so jacked so fast? I am so fucked.”
* * *
Emma absentmindedly stroked the stem of her wine glass. Pete hadn’t arrived yet, and neither had Mallory. She had no idea what was going on, but she was heartsick. At that very moment, she was trying to scrub visions of them together out of her mind. She wanted to enjoy the night, but she couldn’t.
“Why such the long face?” Charlotte asked as she sat down beside her on the deck.
Antonio was down on the beach, getting the bonfire started.
“Oh, just thinking about stuff,” Emma mumbled. “Nothing too exciting. It’s so beautiful here, it’s a wonder that doesn’t cure all ills.”
“What stuff are you thinking about? The fact your hunk of a husband hasn’t shown up?”
Emma darted a glance at Charlotte. “Why, do you know where he is?”
“No, but I can promise you he’s not with Mallory.”
“How do you know that?” Emma questioned. “He could be. They were all over each other at dinner.”
“I know because Mallory went to her villa alone. I escorted her there myself. Your hubby just needed to get some fresh air, and I don’t really blame him. He’s competing with a lot right now. A lesser man would’ve packed up and gone home already.”
“Competing? How do you mean?” Emma asked.
“Come on, you seriously don’t know?” Charlotte raised her eyebrows. “I find that hard to believe.”
Emma blushed. “No, I don’t know. He’s my husband. He doesn’t have to compete with anyone.”
“Really? Is that why you were eye-fucking Antonio on the beach today? You totally got off on him watching you, and it wasn’t too bad for him either. I was a recipient of that intensity, and it was terrific.”
“You saw that?” Emma felt terrible. She bowed her head. “I’m so sorry. I honestly don’t know what’s gotten into me. This is not my normal behavior, I can promise you that.”
“I know what’s gotten into you, and he’s a tall, Cuban drink of water. That man is charisma personified. He draws you into his web very easily, like giving a child a lollipop. Then you add in the ridiculous amount of money, all the flashy things like yachts and expensive champagne, and most women don’t stand a chance.”
Emma politely snorted. “I’d like to think I’m not most women. To tell you the truth”—she turned toward Charlotte, crossing her legs—“I’ve always been head over heels in love with my husband, since the first time I ever laid eyes on him. Done, finished, met my soul mate, in love. But very recently things have changed. I’m tired of doing the same things over and over again. For such a long time, our relationship has been about pleasing others…I don’t know,” she said miserably. “I’m just craving attention, I think. I need to feel noticed. I guess Antonio is filling that need for me right now, but I can assure you I don’t want him. I want Pete. But I’m so sorry for earlier this afternoon. I really am. I was incredibly turned on, and Antonio is your boyfriend. I crossed a line. Please forgive me.”
“Are you kidding?” Charlotte hooted, tipping her head back. “Antonio is far from mine. And thank goodness I know that, or I’d be one heartbroken woman. What I told you guys today was the truth. I’m his girlfriend until he decides otherwise. I haven’t let myself fall too deeply in love with him for that very reason, and by doing so, I’ve managed to protect my heart as well as I can. I’m always truthful with myself. If it wasn’t you on the beach, it would’ve been someone else. I get that. He’s the kind of guy who is always searching for that next thing to excite him. I guess that’s what makes him such a successful businessman. Who knows?” Charlotte shrugged. “But your husband is super gorgeous and clearly very much in love with you. He’s miserable witnessing Antonio showering you with so much attention, knowing that if you wanted to become the new girlfriend of the filthy-rich bachelor, you could. You guys have gotten off track a bit, but I believe it’s fixable.”
“It’s not fixable if he chooses to be with Mallory,” Emma said. “I’ve seen them with their heads together, and they’d actually make a beautiful couple. It’s the same way Pete feels about Antonio. I can’t compete with a rich supermodel.”
“Now you’re talking crazy! You are totally gorgeous, and besides that, Mallory doesn’t want Pete. She’s only trying to help him.”
“Help him?” Emma said, her mouth gaping open. “What do you mean?”
“Yes, help him. You thinking Mallory is interested in him makes him a little more desirable and you a little jealous, yes?”
“I guess,” Emma admitted. “But I hate games like that.”
Charlotte shook her head, clucking her tongue. “Tell me if I’m right. When you first met Pete, he was the guy at a bar who got all the attention. Beautiful girls draped themselves all over him. He never had to want for any attention his entire life, because it always came looking for him. Does that sound like your husband?”
“Yes…pretty much,” Emma said. “But he’s not one of those asshole guys with an attitude about it.”
“I didn’t think he was,” Charlotte assured her. “But sometimes the guys who have to work the least are the most clueless when it comes to this stuff. Pete’s likely never had his heart broken, or felt the kind of jealous rage that grabs hold of you and won’t let go. He’s probably processing a ton of emotions right now and doesn’t even know what they are. The ache has to be totally foreign to him. He has no idea what to do. Not to mention, he’s been forced into this game because you started playing it first,” she pointed out. “You were craving this kind of attention, and you weren’t getting it from him, so you searched it out from someone else.”
Emma nodded. “You could be right, and it makes me ashamed. But that doesn’t stop me from wanting Pete to know what to do. I’m tired of him not getting it. I feel exhausted.”
“Ah, the ever-present battle between the girl brain and the guy brain. Unfortunately for us, most guys don’t have the faculties to figure it out unless we lead them by the nose to what we want. We’re like aliens to them. But, for what it’s worth, I don’t blame you. All my married friends have gone through that itchy phase, and each time they come to me—their token single friend—and spout the same things. They just want their husbands to understand them. Not all of them make it, but I’m certain you and Pete will. You’re both super hot for each other.” She patted Emma’s leg. “Now I’m going to go help my as-of-right-now boyfriend with the fire. Apparently, the Gavins are coming tonight, so it should get mighty entertaining around here pretty quick. That couple does it all and doesn’t care who’s watching. The pope could be in attendance, and they’d still get down and dirty.”
Charlotte left Emma to her thoughts.
Emma wanted to believe that there was nothing going on between Pete and Mallory, but she was having a hard time digesting all the emotions. If Pete was jealous of her interactions with Antonio, why wasn’t he doing something about it? On the beach today, he’d been a little possessive,
but then he’d gone right back to flirting with Mallory.
Emma felt torn. She wanted more. She craved more. She didn’t really want Antonio, but she loved feeling appreciated and admired. That attention was like a drug. It’d been too long since she’d felt like that. Piper had been right. Her self-worth had been gone for too long, and now that it was back, she felt empowered. No way was she going to lose that.
Emma heard voices down on the beach. She stood. It was time for her to go see what the night had in store for her. No more wallowing.
She would see for herself who her husband wanted.
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Pete watched his wife walk out onto the beach. Her dress flowed around her, her hair swayed in the breeze. She was incredibly beautiful, and his chest seized.
He rubbed at it absently as she headed in the direction of the bonfire.
He’d just come up to the villa from his walk. He’d ended up sitting in the sand and contemplating their situation for a long time. What he’d come up with was there was no way in hell Antonio was going to steal his wife. He didn’t understand everything that was going on with Emma, but maybe he didn’t have to. Maybe he just had to make her see that he was the only one for her. No more games, no more Mallory trying to make her jealous. It was going to be him winning his wife.
Pete walked purposefully toward her when someone grabbed hold of his hand.
An unfamiliar female voice sounded in his ear. “Where you going in such a hurry, big fella?”
He whirled around to see a blonde bombshell standing next to him. She had the biggest breasts he’d ever seen, and he’d witnessed many. She wore a barely there bikini on top that had no more than a square of material covering her nipples.
Why bother?
“Um, to find my wife,” he said, pulling his hand back.
What Emma Craves Page 15
